


The Lonely CEO

by aewrose



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AI Jack, Anxiety Attacks, Atlas CEO Rhys, CEO Rhys (Borderlands), Dead Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Delirium, Fainting, Frozen Yogurt, Gen, Hallucinations, Original Female Character is Rhys' assistant, Rhys is lonely, Sick Character, Sick Rhys (Borderlands), Sickfic, Sort Of, Vomiting, Whump, borderlands 3 compliant, implied Rhys/Sasha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewrose/pseuds/aewrose
Summary: Rhys falls ill on an otherwise normal week at Atlas. His PA, Olivia, gets to deal with the fallout.
Relationships: Rhys/Sasha (Borderlands)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Rhys blearily awoke. The sensation of his dry, irritated eyes scratching his eyelids was… unpleasant, to say the least. His throat was just as scratchy, betraying him with a cough as soon as he took a breath. _Just allergies_ , he thought. _Probably the air conditioning drying me out. How is it that with all the advancements we’ve made, we can’t figure out how to cool a room AND keep it a touch more humid than a desert? Maybe I’ll have to get in touch with the science department on that one._ He rose from the bed, staggering over to the bathroom. He was dizzy. The room spun a little more than it should have as he pulled himself in front of the mirror.

“Damn,” he said out loud, to no one in particular. “You look like shit.” He pointed to the man staring back at him.

“ _I_ look like shit? You should see _yourself,_ cupcake,” the reflection responded.

He shook his head, shutting his eyes reflexively, taking in a shuddering breath that erupted into another cough. He _must_ be sick for the man in the mirror to talk back, and in Jack’s voice. _Probably nothing,_ he thought, cautiously opening his eyes again. Nothing was amiss in the mirror. Except him.

His hair was totally flat on one side, the other side fluffed up by a night of less-than-restful sleep. His eyes were red, the irritation more apparent against the bright blue of the cybernetically enhanced eye. _Olivia’s never going to let me hear the end of this,_ he thought.

—

Olivia walked out of the elevator at the top of the Atlas building, holographic ECHO-pad in one hand—the day’s schedule buzzing in light blue in the corner of her vision—her other hand occupied by a coffee carrier. It had become a habit to bring Mr. Strongfork coffee on Thursday mornings. Being secretary and personal assistant to the CEO was quite a lucrative affair. She had worked for a few CEOs, in her time—developing a stoic personality in the process. Thankfully Mr. Strongfork, or “sir” as she _always_ called him, without fail—was less of a pervert than the rest. With her long, straight hair tucked behind her ear and her only _slightly_ personalized Atlas pistol tucked into her thigh holster—tracking pucks and wrist mounts were more Sir’s style—she was a force to be reckoned with. Impeccably organized and intimidating as ever. And here she was, carrying a latte with six sugars in it. Hm.

“Good morning, sir—Oh,”

Sir was not in his office, despite the fact that it was nearly eight-thirty, his first meeting of the day was supposed to start in forty-five minutes, and he _lived_ here, for goodness’ sake. Olivia sighed, shaking her head. She set the sickeningly sweet latte on the desk, heels clicking on the floor, and walked over to her own desk, waking up the holographic screen of the computer. She pulled her soft grey sweater off the back of her chair, pulling it on and shivering as the computer woke up, giving her the daily rundown of what they had planned. It was colder in the office than usual. Sir must have been fiddling with the thermostat.

After the computer completed its updates—ending mercifully at what they had scheduled for 4:30pm, which Sir had jokingly added to the calendar as “Get The Hell Out Of Here”—she walked over to his door, buzzing the bell.

“Sir?” she spoke calmly into the microphone. A soft groan came from the speaker.

“Good morning, sir; just wanted to remind you of your nine-fifteen meeting with the VP of Marketing. I left your coffee on your desk.”

“Mh, yes, of course, um, thank you, Olivia.” His voice sounded hoarse. “I’ll be out shortly.”

“Very good, sir.” She smiled, clicking away from the door, sitting down at her desk.

Sir did not come out until nine-oh-seven.

When he _did_ emerge, door sliding shut with a _bzzt-click_ behind him, he looked a little worse for wear. Bags under his eyes, disheveled hair, crooked tie, the whole nine yards. Olivia frowned.

“Sir, are you alright?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Oh, uh, fine. I’m great. When’s my first meeting again?”

“In seven minutes. With Mr. Leon? In Marketing?”

“Ah, right, yes. Just…testing you! Yeah. Making sure you’re on your toes. Heh.” He smiled halfheartedly. Olivia looked at him blankly.

“Well, let me know how it goes. Your coffee’s probably cold by now, you know.”

“Eh. Nothing a good old-fashioned microwave can’t fix.”

“Of course, sir.”

The CEO began his stride toward the elevator door—slower than usual, but otherwise not _too_ abnormal, Olivia noted.

“And sir?”

He turned slightly to face the woman’s desk.

“Take it easy,” she said, knowingly.

“Don’t I always?” he raised an eyebrow, flashing a flirty smile, before breaking out into a fit of coughs.

Olivia looked on as he continued to cough.

“I’ll be back,” he said, cough stilling, striding into the waiting elevator.

The PA turned back to her computer screen, gazing out of the corner of her eye at the elevator doors until they closed.

—

Sir returned around ten o’clock. Olivia had finished her coffee and her meager breakfast, a soft yet crispy croissant.

“Welcome back,” she said, spinning her chair to greet the brown-haired man. He looked worse. He managed a “Mh,” staggering into his office, as the PA looked on.

“Well then,” she said to herself. “Be that way.” There were thankfully no more meetings until the afternoon, and with his attitude, she decided to let him steep in whatever he was ailing with before she decided to question him on the meeting with Marketing. A fit of coughs erupted from the office across the foyer; the kind of coughs that made you gasp for breath. The tall, thin woman listened for a moment, senses alerted, to hear the coughs fade, determining that whatever was the problem was should not require her services immediately.

After waiting a few minutes, she hit “save” on the spreadsheet she had been working on and strode into her boss’s office. He had clearly been slumped over the desk before he had heard the _click-click-click_ of her shoes.

“How was Mr. Leon?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” The CEO waved his hand flippantly, other hand rubbing his eyes. “Just wanted to update me on all their… I dunno. Projects.”

“Very good, sir. And what did you think?”

“About the projects? Um, they’re _great,_ yeah. Awesome.”

Olivia looked at him for a moment, steely gaze toward his cybernetic eye.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright, sir? You look unwell.”

“Gee, thanks. Real confidence boost there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, sir.”

“You know, you really can call me Rhys. I don’t mind.”

“You’re stalling, _sir,_ ” she said, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

Rhys sighed. “Well, I don’t feel _great,_ but I’m sure I’ll be fine. Just a cold or something.”

His PA pursed her lips. “I’m canceling your other meeting.”

“ _Olivia,”_ he whined.

“Feel free to write me up for insubordination.” She turned on her heel, picking up the morning’s discarded coffee cup, long black hair shining under the harsh lights of the CEO’s office. “And while I’m at it, being insubordinate and all, you should take the rest of the day off, sir.”

Her heels clicked as she walked down the long hallway back to her own desk. Rhys grumbled behind her, but she heard the telltale sound of him shutting down his computer and closing the blinds.

She sat down at her desk just in time to see him reluctantly walking toward his door.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need, sir. I’ll be—“

He faltered, turning to look at her, squeezing his eyes shut, then collapsed into the open door to his penthouse.

“ _Sir!_ ” Olivia rose with a start, nearly knocking over her chair in the process, running over to the older man. She knelt on the ground next to him, green eyes frantically scanning him for external injury. His skin was glistening with a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed. His eyes squeezed shut again from their relaxed state before fluttering open as he groaned.

“L’via,” he said, slurring. He swallowed thickly. “Don’t feel good,”

“I gathered that,” she said, hand stroking his hair seemingly involuntarily. “Aren’t you glad I cancelled all your meetings?”

He shot her a look. “Y’re going to rub it in _now?_ ”

“I’m just saying,” she said, smugly.

They sat there for a moment in a haphazard pile on the floor, in the middle of the doorway. Rhys took a deep breath, rising slowly.

“Don’t get up too fast. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, all things considered,” he lied.

“I don’t believe you.” Olivia’s deadpan gaze could drill a hole through him.

“Well, ‘pretty good’ might be a stretch, but I’m fine, Olivia, really. You’re my PA, not my mother.”

“You _fainted,_ sir. Right in front of me.”

“Maybe I’m a fainter. You haven’t worked here very long, how would you know?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. But I’m here until the end of the day, and I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll let you know before I go.” She rose from the ground, brushing off her dress and returning to her desk. “Take some medicine or something. I don’t know,” she looked over her shoulder coyly. “I’m not your _mother._ ”

—

Olivia knocked softly on the door.

“I’m heading out, sir. Do you need anything before I leave?”

No response.

“I cancelled your meetings for tomorrow, just in case. Get some rest.”

She left, locking the door to the atrium area where her desk sat, not waiting for a response. If he wondered where she was, he could always check the recordings from his door. Or send her a message, or call her. He would certainly be fine. Her mind buzzed with activity as she waited in the long private elevator ride to the ground.

“Good evening, Olivia,” said the robotic receptionist in the lobby, as the doors opened.

“Hello,” she said, a half-smile on her face. “Quitting time,”

“Indeed,” said the android.

“Hey, between you and me, Mr. Strongfork wasn’t feeling well today. Would you keep me updated in case anything weird starts happening?”

“Affirmative.”

“Thanks,” said the PA, walking out of the sliding doors. Her apartment was technically on the Atlas campus, just a short walk away from her work. A good thing, too. She was getting hungry. Should she have offered Sir some dinner? No, she thought. He’s a grown man. He can handle himself.

—

_3:15 AM - FRIDAY_

R you awake ?

Need help. S

Sick. And everything h urt

Cant trust anybody esle. 0 bedsde manner no t good

Ha ha.

Pl ease come soon

Door unlocked. Dont ring bell

_4:05 AM - FRIDAY_

Sorry, just woke up.

Do you still need help?

_4:10 AM - FRIDAY_

I’m on my way.

—

“Shit.”

Olivia pulled on her soft Atlas-branded sweatshirt over her pajama top, pulling on a pair of black leggings just to cover herself. Professionalism be damned. For Sir to text her in the middle of the night it must be bad.

She hurried through the campus, hair blowing in the wind, glowing in the first lights of dawn, pulling tangled hair into a haphazard bun as she walked, ECHO in hand, just in case Sir messaged her again or called. The android receptionist, never sleeping, greeted her again at the door.

“Early morning, Olivia.”

“That’s for sure.” She hit the “call elevator” button, scanning her employee keycard to call the private elevator to the top-floor office. “Hey, make sure no one else comes up here, alright? No visitors today.”

“Affirmative, ma’am. Have a lovely day.”

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent but for the nervous tapping of Olivia’s foot. Her slip-on shoes made less noise than her usual heels, certainly, but she was anxious enough to allow some sound, especially if it meant Sir had some warning that she was coming.

The doors slid open at the atrium. Olivia’s desk exactly as she left it, Sir’s door slightly ajar, as he had promised.

“Sir?” she called, into the dark lobby, walking cautiously toward the door. A soft moan came from the older man’s doorway.

“I’m coming in.”

The penthouse was fairly clean, maybe a few dishes in the kitchen sink. No lights were on, Olivia’s eyes struggling to distinguish everything by just the dim light coming through the windows. A wet cough, followed by a gasp and a wheeze, led the PA to her boss’s bedroom.

“Oh, _sir,”_ said Olivia, her voice dripping with an odd sense of tenderness.

Rhys was lying on the bed, hair in disarray, eyes half-lidded, wheezing. His skin was pale, the telltale flush of fever spread across his cheeks. His body shook, shivering in contrast to the sheets on the bed being thrown off, presumably in the throes of whatever illness had taken hold of him.

“Olivia,” he breathed, beginning to rise from the bed.

“Shh, don’t get up.” She rushed to the man’s side. “Do you have a temperature?” Her hand, having reflexively gone to his forehead, seemed to answer for her, finding him uncomfortably warm.

“Don’ know. Can’t get up.”

“I’m calling medical,” she said, opening her ECHO.

“No, please,” he swallowed, breathing heavily through chapped lips. “I need…”

She looked at him expectantly. “What do you need, sir?”

He opened his mouth to speak, jerking forward, stomach spasming in a retch producing nothing but a gasp and a sob. “No one’s cared, for me, since she left,” he said, wheezing. His eyes were bright, yet glassy; usual tight-lipped silence on his personal life thrown to the wayside by delirium.

“Well, I’m here now,” she said, comfortingly. _Maybe he means the woman who is all over the pictures on the walls in the penthouse, and on the picture on his desk_ , she thought. “Have you taken any medicine?”

“Too nauseous,” he said, lying back on the nest of pillows.

“Mm. Well, let’s try some now. Where do you keep it?”

“Medicine cabinet. Bathroom,” he lifted his hand, pointing generally, still shaking like a leaf. “‘M cold,”

“I know you _feel_ cold, but you’re burning up, sir. Which usually means your fever will rise, and I don’t want that.”

She walked to the bathroom, rummaging through the sparse medicine cabinet for anything that might help. Thankfully, she discovered a thermometer and a fever reducer, one that wasn’t even expired. She added “throw away old medication” to her mental to-do list. Another cough and a retch came from the bedroom she had just left.

“ _Olivia,_ ” called a keening whine.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” she returned to the bedroom to find him sitting up slightly, skin beginning to take on a green tinge. “Here,” she said, picking up the small wastebasket in the room, shoving it in front of him not a moment too soon; Rhys immediately vomited into it, nearly falling into the wastebasket from the effort.

“Oh, _come on,_ ” said Olivia, exasperated. She supported his weight as he breathed heavily, still hanging his head over the basket. “All done?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. She moved the basket away as he buried his face in her neck.

“Really, sir, I know you aren’t well but this is _hardly_ appropriate—“

“Why’d you come back?”

“Huh?” Olivia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Are you alright? You _asked_ me to come here,”

“I… I looked for you for so long,” his breathing on Olivia’s neck was becoming… distracting. She pulled him away from her, hands around his shoulders.

“What in the _world_ are you on about, sir?” His eyes were glassy, like he was looking _toward_ her but not _at_ her. “Come on, let’s take your temperature,”

“Okay,” he said, dreamily. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Olivia gave him her best “I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on” smile as she slid the thermometer under his tongue. They were silent for a moment, Rhys’ eyes shut, shivering, Olivia still supporting him so he could sit up. The thermometer started beeping, a shrill electronic sound, Rhys groaning at the noise.

“Oh, _sir,_ for _goodness’_ sake!” The small readout on the no-frills device read “40.1 C.” “No wonder you aren’t making any sense. Here,” she picked up a glass of water from the nightstand. “Take these,” she handed the older man a few pills.

“I don’t _want_ to,” he whined. “Feel sick.”

“You probably feel sick because you’re overheating. This will help, I promise.”

He groaned, but took the medicine, albeit reluctantly. Olivia was growing highly concerned. This was all _quite_ abnormal—although, by the way Sir was acting, it seemed like he wouldn’t remember much of it tomorrow, which was a blessing. His hand shook as he went to set the glass down, Olivia guiding it with her own hand in the hopes of not having too much clean up to do.

“Alright, now _rest,_ ” she said, laying him down on the bed.

“But you’ll _go,_ if I sleep. Like before,” his eyes welled up with tears.

“Shh, don’t cry. I’ll be right here.” She held his left hand, firmly rubbing up and down his arm. _I don’t get paid enough for this,_ she thought.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

—

Rhys’ eyes slid closed as his breathing evened out. Olivia waited for a moment, making sure he was asleep before rising from her seat on the bed.

 _What an ordeal,_ she thought. _I’d better not leave, just in case._ She went to the kitchen, searching for a rag to cool him down. _Is that even a thing? It’s what my mom always did,_ she thought, turning on the sink after rummaging around the drawers and finding a small towel. The window over the kitchen sink showed a beautiful view of the Atlas campus, the sun finally rising above the horizon. It also betrayed Olivia’s faint reflection.

“What did you get yourself into, girl?” she said to herself. “Playing nurse for a grown man. And a grown man that should probably should be taken care of by an _actual_ nurse, at that.” She sighed, walking back into the bedroom where her boss was fast asleep.

He grimaced in his sleep, moaning. “ _Sasha,_ ”

“Shh,” said Olivia, gently wiping his face with the cool towel. “It’s alright. Sleep.” She folded it up, laying it over his eyes as he quieted down. She thought back to their conversation the previous day, before he had fainted. _“You really can call me Rhys. I don’t mind,”_ he said. He didn’t understand _why_ she called him Sir. She had resolved herself to only call him that, worried that if she called him by his first name as he preferred, they would become… attached to each other. Unfortunately for her, “Sir” had become sort of a pet name, defeating the original purpose of the formality. _Well, all formality’s out the window now,_ she said. She pulled the blanket over his chest, lightly tucking him in before sitting on the side of the bed, reading the day’s news on her ECHO as Meridian City began to wake up around them.


	2. Chapter 2

_…ir…ke up…ir…s…_

“…Sir, wake up.”

Rhys groaned. He reluctantly opened his eyes. Olivia was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over him, hair pulled back into a braid. Her hand was resting on his chest, gently rubbing it in small circles.

“You need to eat something.”

“Mh. Don’ want to,” he said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick.”

“I’m sorry,” said Olivia. “You still feel hot to me. Let’s take your temperature again, at least.”

He obediently opened his mouth for the thermometer, serving its purpose with a small _beep._ Olivia was looking at him kindly. Her hand had moved to his shoulder, stroking his upper arm up and down. His head leaned toward the soft touch. It had been a long time since someone touched him, aside from the customary businesslike handshake, and he was too sick to worry about what Olivia might think of his behavior.

“When did you last eat something?” The soft voice of his PA brought him out of his thoughts.

“Yesterday. Lunch,” he mumbled around the metal end of the thermometer.

Olivia hummed in response. The thermometer began signaling its job was done, shrill beeps causing Rhys’ headache to intensify.

“39.9,” she sighed. “That’s gone down a little, but not as much as I had hoped. You’re starting to really worry me, sir,” she said, smiling kindly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Rhys closed his eyes with the comforting sensation.

“Now, now, don’t fall asleep on me. It's lunchtime, and you still need to eat,” she laughed. “Come on.” Olivia supported the older man, pulling him upright. She turned to the nightstand, picking up a steaming bowl of soup, starting to hand it to him.

“ ‘m a little shaky,” he said, reaching out for the bowl, hand shaking as if in agreement.

“What about this hand?” her fingers brushed the cold metal of the cybernetic arm.

“Feels like…” his eyes shut tightly, desperately seeking for the right word as if his mind was slogging through a swamp. “It lags behind. When ‘m sick.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Here,” she took a spoonful of the broth, blowing on it, then bringing it to the man’s lips. “Eat up.”

He took a sip as Olivia began to laugh.“This is so…”

“Nice,”

“Weird. Oh,” The two blushed in unison. “Jinx. I mean, it _is_ nice, in a weird way, uh, sir.” She pushed another spoonful past his lips. They shared an uncomfortable moment of silence between them, Olivia’s cheeks, nose, and ears reddening further.

“Um, sir?” The PA couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Hm?” he answered, swallowing. “What is it?”

“Pardon me for asking, sir, but… who is Sasha?”

Rhys startled into a cough. “She is… _was,_ my partner. She, um, left. A while ago.” An uncomfortable feeling brewed in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, sir.” She lifted another spoonful from the bowl. He met eyes with her, finding an expression peculiarly tender.

“It’s alright. I just…” his fever-addled mind became overwhelmed by emotion, allowing tears to well up in his eyes. “I just wish she’d come back.” He began to sob.

“Sir, _please_ don’t cry,” she set the bowl down, quickly embracing the man. He sniffled, burying his face into her neck again. _He feels warmer than before,_ she thought. _This gives some context to… earlier, I guess._

“L’via,” he said suddenly. “Gonna be sick.”

Olivia pushed him away, swearing under her breath, leaning down to the floor and picking up the poor abused wastebasket (thankfully with a fresh liner). Rhys gasped, tears still flowing, retching unproductively. Olivia rubbed small circles into his back.

“Sorry,” he said, after emptying the meager contents of his stomach into the basket.

“Don’t be. You can’t help it.” Rhys’ muscles spasmed again, whimpering through lips clamped shut. “It’s okay. Let it all out.” Another cough, dry this time. “All done?” She craned her neck to meet eyes with him.

He shook his head slowly. “Don’ know,” he slurred, gasping.

“Alright, here,” her hand rose to the nape of his neck, her forehead meeting his. “Breathe through it. Ready? Inhale—“ she breathed in slowly, Rhys’ shaky inhale desperately trying to match hers— “and exhale.”

They breathed in unison for a few moments, Olivia finally feeling like it was safe to move the trash can, separating from close contact with her ailing boss.

“Hold tight. I’ll get you some water and some medicine. We’ll see if we can keep that down at least.”

Rhys hummed in response, laying back onto the pile of pillows.

—

Olivia spotted her reflection as she shut the medicine cabinet, filling a small cup with water from the sink.

 _This is crazy,_ she thought, shaking her head. _This is so out of line._

 _Nonsense. He needs help, and you are helping,_ said her inner voice. _That’s your job, isn’t it?_

 _Somehow I feel like this isn’t in the job description,_ she thought. _“Personal assistant” and “nurse” are usually different fields._

_Don’t lie, you’re enjoying it, in some odd way._

_Certainly not. This is way out of my pay grade._

_You aren’t doing this because you work for him. You’re doing it because you’re his friend._

She frowned at the woman in the mirror, tilting her head.

“I suppose so,” she whispered. _Damn him for being so friendly. Work-life balance was easier when I worked for a gross old man._

She sighed, walking back into the bedroom. “Alright, sir. Take a sip of water, see how that sits, then we’ll try some more medicine to get that fever down.”

“Mh. Weird,” he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, _now_ you agree with me,” she scoffed. “And here I am justifying everything ‘cause you said it was nice.” Sitting down next to him on the bed, she noticed his eyes were unfocused and glassy; his cybernetic eye was glowing bright blue. _That’s odd,_ she thought.

“I thought I killed you.”

 _What the hell?_ she thought, her jaw falling open, dumbfounded.

“Don’t touch her.” His inorganic hand gripped her forearm with shocking strength.

Olivia’s blood ran cold. “Sir, stop,”

“I can do it again, you _bastard,_ ” he pulled her towards him as his other hand pointed, shaking, past Olivia’s shoulder.

She turned, nervous, toward the corner of the room; nothing was amiss.

“There’s no one there,”

“Don’t… don’t test me. I’m stronger now,”

“ _Sir,”_

“I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. To get you out of my head.”

“Sir, I don’t know what—who—you’re seeing, but—“

“ _Stop,”_ his voice was raised now, as close to a commanding yell as he could muster. “I _said_ leave her _alone.”_

“You have to let go of me, sir, you’re not well—“ the formidable grip of the cybernetics was strong enough to bruise her arm.

“No, get out,” his breathing quickened, tone quickly turning from anger to fear. “Get out, get out, no, no no no no no,”

 _“Rhys,”_ she said, voice firm, rock-solid; determined to banish whatever specter was invading the man’s mind. “You need to calm down. You’re very sick, and what you’re seeing is _not there._ ”

He glanced over to her, visibly panicked, reluctant to take his eyes off the corner of the room for too long. Olivia watched his cybernetic eye adjust its focus, aperture widening to accommodate her face, still emanating a glacier blue light. “B-but, he’s—what if—“

“He’s not there, Rhys.” Her reluctance to utter the older man’s name was absent in the interest of grounding him back in reality. “You trust me, right?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, grip beginning to loosen though his eyes were still trained on the threatening figure only he could see.

“And would I lie to you?” She brought her hands to his face, worryingly warm and damp with sweat. His hand still clasped her forearm but had ceased pulling.

“No,” the glow of his eye faded, matching the reddened blur of his other eye. The quick movement of his chest slowed, an involuntary whining noise escaping his lips as he exhaled.

“Now I need you to let go of my arm, so I can give you your medicine.” Rhys released his hold, still in a fog as the PA leaned over to the nightstand, placing the medicine in his open hand, slightly shaky. He took it quietly, without incident, Olivia supporting his hand holding the glass. She moved slowly and deliberately—in fear of setting him off.

“Can I take your temperature again?”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, mouth hanging open, staring off into space.

She sighed, pushing his hair off his forehead after giving him the thermometer.

“Are you even awake right now?”

“Dunno.”

“Huh. Fair answer, I guess.” She crossed her arms, looking out the window. _He needs a doctor,_ said her inner voice. _That’s not normal._

The _beep-beep-beep-beep_ of the thermometer thankfully cut her inner voice short.

“40.4,” she said, “if you’re paying attention. I’m going to see if I can’t get someone from medical to come up here.”

“No,” he said, suddenly focused on her.

“It wasn’t a question. You can write me up when you feel better.” She rose from the bed, picking up her ECHO.

“Wait. Did I…” he lifted his shaking hand, pointing to her arm. “…Do that?”

“Hm? Oh,” a crimson bruise had already begun to appear, clearly hand-shaped even to Rhys’ shaken mind. “Yeah, you did. A few minutes ago.” She tugged her sleeve down to cover the mark before bringing the ECHO to her ear, walking out of the room as she began speaking to another living person for the first time in hours.

—

“Yeah, hi, this is Olivia, with Mr. Strongfork’s office? May I please speak to Dr. Lansing…Yes, very good…Yes, thank you.” Olivia’s “phone voice,” however calm, filled Rhys with a sense of unease.

 _You hurt her. I don’t know how, but you did, champ,_ his inner voice laughed. _Just like you hurt Sash. Now you get to live with that_ ** _and_** _find a new PA._

“No, I didn’t.” he whispered, flexing his cybernetic hand.

 _You did,_ sneered the voice. _And you don’t even remember it._

“I don’t feel good. I didn’t mean it,” he whimpered. “I don’t know what’s going on,”

_Yeah, good excuse, pumpkin. Try using that one when you rip the girl’s arm off._

“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that. She’s my friend.”

 _She’s not your friend. She just works for you. You don’t have friends anymore. You won’t even have any employees left at this rate, if you scare them off like you did with her. What’s next? You’re gonna punch her in the face? You should punch her in the face. I’d love to see the look on_ **_your_ ** _face when you realize what you did._

Hot tears began to fall onto the blanket that was lying on Rhys’ lap.

 _I can almost see the police report. Think of the news,_ the voice cackled. _“Atlas CEO punches a hole through woman’s face. More at 11.” Hah! That’d be rich._

Olivia laughed from the other room. “Oh, that’s perfect. You know how he is,” he could almost hear the smile on her face. “Stubborn as ever.”

_I saw what she looked like, when you did it. She was terrified._

“Yeah, I gave him some medicine, but I’m not sure if it’ll stay down,” Olivia was pacing the living room.

 _She’s been here all day, looking after your sorry ass. Did she have breakfast? Lunch? Probably not. Instead, she’s cleaning up your puke, and what’s next?—_ the voice snickered— _Combing your hair or some shit? I don’t know._

“That’s great, thank you so much. I’ll let you know how everything goes. Bye-bye.” She walked back into the room, absent-mindedly rubbing her forearm. “So, they don’t need to send somebody yet, but I’ve got a list of things I’m supposed to keep an eye on. And they’re sending up some medication for you. Oh,” she looked up from her ECHO pad. “You okay? What’s up?”

Rhys was sniffling, tears flowing freely now, the conflict between his inner voice and the nonchalant kindness of the dark-haired woman apparent. “You should go.”

“Why do you say that? I don’t mind helping,” she came to sit on the bed, soft fingers feeling his neck, sensing the heat, before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I hurt you,” he said, looking up from his hands to meet eyes with her.

“Oh, s—“ she swallowed the word “sweetheart,” crushing the maternal instinct threatening to make the whole situation even more awkward than it already was—“ _Sir._ You aren’t feeling good. You’ve got a fever, and I’m _sure_ you’re dehydrated. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t even _remember_ doing it,” he croaked, echoing the jeering of his inner voice.

“I’m not surprised. I think you were hallucinating.”

“I… guess so,” he whispered, barely-there memories of a face best described as “Handsome” fading in and out like that of a faraway dream.

“Well, whatever it was, _I_ couldn’t see it. Anyway,” she patted his hand gently. “If you really want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m worried about you, and I’d like to stick around. What do you think?”

He thought for a moment, a few tears still falling onto Olivia’s hand. He was exhausted (despite sleeping for most of the day so far), his head was pounding, his throat was _screaming,_ his stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, and he felt so cold that he might as well be sitting in a freezer. “I don’t want to… I don’t know. Pressure you, or-or anything.”

“I’m not so easily ‘pressured,’ sir. Plus, for now, I’m not asking as your employee. I’m asking as a _friend._ ”

He lifted his head, tired red-rimmed eyes meeting Olivia’s green ones; a small, friendly smile on her face.

“Would you stay? At least for a little while?”

“Rhys,” she squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

—

_6:43PM - FRIDAY_

All out of mango. Peach ok?

Or tangerine

Noooooooo

Tell them im dying

I’m not telling the poor Fran’s worker you’re dying.

Drama queen.

Meanie

Peach is good

U could say…

??

_Rhys is typing…_

Peachy

OMG.

Whatever

_Rhys is typing…_

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

_/me is rolling her eyes_

_6:55PM - FRIDAY_

On my way. With yogurt

U are a life saver!!!!!

Don’t tell your Dr I let you eat fro yo for dinner

The fruit is good for u though.

You won’t get scurvy at least.

Lorelei says hi. She was with 0…

!!

Date?

Couldn’t tell.

They aren’t the easiest people to read.

Cant tease him about it anyway.

Might get sworded

Yeah, that’s dangerous

—

“It’s melting,”

“It wouldn’t melt if you would just let me _eat it._ ”

“I _would_ , but you have to take your meds first.”

“ _Olivia,_ ” he whined. “I’m _sick_ and you’re being _mean_ to me.” Rhys was a pitiful sight, having moved to the couch (Olivia supporting him the whole way for fear he would fall), shrouded in the fuzziest blanket he could find, a cooling patch (Olivia had retrieved them from the pharmacy on the way to Fran’s Frogurt) stuck to his forehead, simultaneously shivering and sweating.

“I’m not being mean to you. You’re the one that agreed to take them before your yogurt.” Olivia put a heaping spoonful of the frozen treat in her mouth. “See, I’m already almost to my strawberries. Better hurry up.”

“That was before I saw how _big_ they are!” He looked longingly at the swirl of orange yogurt, peach slice neatly nestled in the top beginning to droop. “I’ll probably throw them up anyway,” he muttered.

“I cut them in half for that _exact_ reason, sir,” she sighed. “Here. Take them _with_ your yogurt.”

“Deal!” he said, smugly popping the two halves into his mouth, swallowing them easily along with an enormous mouthful of frozen peach-flavored dairy. “Ohhh,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “Brain freeze…”

“Karma,” said Olivia, eyes trained on the flatscreen TV playing some inane gameshow.

Rhys shot her a mean look before cautiously taking another bite. Before long, the cup was empty, and his stomach remained settled. Olivia wordlessly got up to throw away the cup, coming back and standing behind the older man.

“How are you feeling?”

“Could be better.”

“Hm.” Olivia rested the back of her hand on the man’s neck. He was still warm, yet not concerningly so. “Could be worse.”

“True.”

She patted down a flyaway hair with her palm before leaning down to rest her arms on the back of the couch.

“Liv?”

“What’s up?” She didn’t bat an eye at the nickname, much to Rhys’ relief. “You’re not gonna throw up again, are you?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh,” a flush of embarrassment erupted over her face. “Not a problem.”

“You say that, but… I mean, you spent your whole Friday looking after _me_ , and I’ll admit I’m not the most pleasant patient.”

“You owe me,” she laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. “But really. It’s my pleasure, Rhys.”

“Friends?”

Olivia smiled, a toothy grin this time, replacing her usual restraint. “Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue coming this weekend! Thank you so much for reading; I hope you are enjoying it! 
> 
> -R


	3. Epilogue

_7:39AM - MONDAY_

Are you coming in today?

Of course

Why?

Just wondering

Don’t come in til 0900

??? Everything ok?

_Rhys is typing…_

_Rhys is typing…_

_Rhys is typing…_

Yes.

Not gonna elaborate?

Its a surprise!

 _…_ Alrighty then. 9 it is

—

“Mr. Strongfork instructed me very clearly that you were not to enter until 9:00 am, ma’am.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s 8:58,” Olivia tossed her empty coffee cup in the lobby’s garbage can. “It practically takes two minutes to get up there anyway. Won’t you let me in?”

“Negative, ma’am. The elevator ride takes approximately 43 seconds,” said the android receptionist, matter-of-factly.

“Ugh. I’ve already drank my entire coffee, too. Now I’m going to get up there and have to make a whole other cup, and it’s all _your_ fault.”

“Negative, ma’am. Based on the level of caffeine in your coffee, cross-referenced with your body size—“

The doors to the private elevator mercifully opened, and Olivia near-sprinted in. “Sorry! Gotta get to work! See you later!”

The doors slid closed. “43 seconds, my ass,” she muttered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

 _Back to being professional,_ she thought. _Not sure if I’m hoping we are best buds now or if we just kinda… pretend it never happened._

 _You’ll take his lead,_ said the little inner voice. _You’ve had your fun playing nurse, and now it’s time to get back to work._

_Of course. It’s my job._

She smirked, fixing her hair in the reflection in the door before it slid open again, revealing the top-floor atrium.

Atop her desk was a vase, holding twelve of what she was _sure_ were the most perfect yellow roses on Promethea. Next to it, a small box, haphazardly wrapped, with a card perched on top.

“Oh, you sly dog.” she smiled, gently touching the soft petals of the roses. She looked around, checking if she was being watched before opening the card.

* * *

__

* * *

“Aww, how sweet!” the coy smile became a toothy grin. She tore the meager wrapping off of the box, pulling out a small desk plaque.

> _OLIVIA SOPHROSYNE_
> 
> _ADVISOR_

“What do you think?” Rhys was leaning on the wall of the enormous aquarium hallway, arms crossed.

“I appreciate it, sir. How are you feeling?”

“I mean it, you know,” he said, ignoring her question. “I value our friendship.”

“I know,” she tilted her head, smelling the roses.

“Not to get, I don’t know, _mushy_ about it or anything, but it’s sort of hard to form friendships when you own the whole company.”

“Did you really just ‘it’s lonely at the top’ me?” She laughed.

Rhys pouted. “Hey, I’m trying to open up here. Be nice to me,”

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead,”

“So as your _friend,_ and not your _boss,_ really—what do you think?”

“I like it. It’s very…” she looked up at him, then back down to the bouquet. “Friendly.”

“Very good.” He cleared his throat. “Well, with that out of the way, _Advisor,_ what’s on my— _our—_ calendar today?”

“Hmm.” Her heels rested on the top of the desk, arms confidently crossed. “Whatever you’d like, Rhys. After all,

you’re the boss.”


End file.
